


Communications Expert

by limitedpractice



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, Female reader insert, First Time Sex, Guilty Wank, Happy Sex, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Insert, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Sex, Voyeurism, explicit - Freeform, hnnn, nothing dark in these stories, someone's watching you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limitedpractice/pseuds/limitedpractice
Summary: Highly intelligent, overlooked, uncool, underappreciated awkward robot nerds with minds filthier than a gutter who could kill in a second with little remorse are 100% this reader's type.Just a collection of explicit self insert stories between a couple of imaginative nerds who have it bad for each other.
Relationships: reader/hubcap, you/hubcap
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	1. I Wish I'd Locked the Door But Now I'm Glad I Didn't Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just love Hubcap a lot and have fun writing these self-indulgent stories, and am finally putting them up here.

Movie night started ten minutes ago and Hubcap still hasn’t shown up.

So being the good friend that you are, you offer to go check in on him. You’ve seen this movie before and don’t mind missing the first part of it, which is boring anyway. You’re not concerned that something’s happened to him, but you are disappointed and more than slightly irritated at him for not showing up. You did an excellent job maneuvering everyone around so that the only empty seat left for him to take would be next to you. And now he’s going to insist that you take the seat while he sits on the floor, meaning that you’ll have to sit next to someone who eats too loudly or talks too much and who doesn’t sneak glances at you when you think you aren’t looking.

This distracting train of thought might be why you open the door to his hab suite without knocking first, and why you don’t notice that the door’s keypad is outlined green for open instead red for locked.

“Are you OK?” you say a bit too harshly as you stride into his room. “We’re all waiting for you and since you didn’t show up on time I’ve now got to sit next to someone who- OH. Oh shit, shit I’m sorry.”

You whip your head to the side but it’s too late. You’ve seen him and he’s seen you and now you know why he wasn’t at movie night.

He was laying on his bed, one arm behind his head to use as a pillow as his other hand pumped his dick, legs spread wide and eyes half-closed in bliss. Then you spoke and his eyes widened and you both made a sharp hot flash of horrified eye contact and now you can hear him scrambling upright and transforming part of himself away.

“I’m really sorry for disturbing you,” you say in a rush. 

He’s perched on the very edge of the bed, frozen and rigid and looking like he wants to die. He looks mortified.

You’re sorry you’ve embarrassed him, but you’re not sorry enough to leave. You should be halfway down the corridor now, but you’re not. Instead you’ve been possessed by the fleeting image of how you saw him - relaxed and enjoying himself, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was taking his time with himself, and that expression on his face… You feel a swooping sensation in your stomach as you remember it. He must have been so wrapped up in his fantasy that he had no idea how much time had passed. You wonder who he was thinking about, and that feeling in your stomach twists painfully. 

“Um, I’ll go now,” you say, suddenly deflated. You want to ask him who he was thinking about just as much as you never want to know. It could be someone you don’t like, or someone you’d never stand a chance against. It could be literally anyone but you. 

You take a step backwards and this rouses him.

“No, don’t,” he says quickly without thinking about it. “Please don’t. I mean-just. I’m sorry. But please don’t go, I was just thinking of- Um.” He closes his eyes as his mortification sinks deeper. 

You should take this chance. Bite the bullet and just ask him. If you don’t like the answer then you can both be horribly embarrassed and you never have to speak of this again. So you should do it. Do it now while you have the nerve.

You take a deep breath and gabble out on the exhale “Who were you thinking of just now was it anyone I know or was it me or not me I just want to know especially if it was me.“

You didn’t mean to say more than those first five words and now you’re blushing furiously and want to die alongside him. Before you can close your eyes you make eye contact with him again and find that you can’t look away.

“Yes,” Hubcap admits in a brave whisper. “I was thinking of you.”

You’re pretty sure the two of you are giving off enough heat to set the fire alarms off, even though you know they’re activated by smoke not heat. But there’s a hammering in your ears and it’s difficult to think straight.

You’re not sure how long you stand immobile and he sits frozen. One of you should make the first move. 

“So, uh,” you begin. “That’s good. Thank you. I mean- yeah. That’s nice. Good.”

You should write these words down and submit them for a place in the history books.

Hubcap smiles and shifts in place where he sits. He’s not making any move to stand up or lay down, but he is thawing out. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Er, yeah. Yes. That is nice. Was nice. Is nice.”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered like this, but you don’t want to get into a never ending loop of banalities with him. You want more than that. You want more of him. So you’re going to have to take another deep breath and ask another brave question that could knock you flat on your back in the worst way.

“Can I come and sit next to you?” you say in a rush.

Hubcap immediately stiffens. That’s it, you’ve blown your chance, you should never have done that and now you’re going to have to avoid him for the rest of your life until you get a transfer to another ship.

But he also immediately recovers, seemingly aware of how his reaction is being interpreted. You sense him take the cybertronian equivalent of a deep breath himself, and hear gears whirring softly from somewhere deep inside him. 

“Why don’t you sit on me instead?” he blurts out.

Hell yes. He offlines his eyes as his bravery is wiped out, and doesn’t see you smile widely. Hell yes that’s what you want to do. But first you should lock the door in case someone else checks up on him.

“How do you lock your door?” you ask him.

Hubcap opens his eyes and looks at the door. He puts two fingers to the side of his head, and after a moment’s hesitation that has nothing to do with the door, he looks back at you. “It’s locked now. Properly this time. ”

You smile wider at his Outlier abilities, and smile even wider as he tries not to smile back at you. You cross the room to where he’s sitting and look up at him. Even though he’s a minibot he’s still so much bigger than you. 

“Help me up?” you ask him.

With big gentle hands he lifts you up onto his lap, so that your back is against his chest and you’re facing the same direction. Maybe he doesn’t want his courage to desert him by looking at you. Or maybe he’s putting you in the best position so he can watch what you’re going to do to him. 

You feel a gush of heat between your legs, and start to stroke his large metal thighs. He makes an appreciative noise but then cuts himself off sharply. He hadn’t closed his interface panel after you walked in on him, and now that you’re sitting in his lap and touching him his dick has sprung back out.

“Hubcap,” you start to reassure him that he has nothing to be ashamed of, but the moment the second syllable of his name has left your mouth a low moan escapes from his. 

You wonder how many people have spoken his name like that to him - softly and slowly and full of rich promise of things to come. Probably no-one. 

You stroke his legs again, slowly and surely with the full length of your flat palm, and watch his large dick in front of you twitch in response. You do this again and again, the tips of your fingers almost touching the base of it but sliding back before they do. You continue stroking him like this to try and put him at ease, to make it clear that you want him. You’ve waited for a long time to be with him like this, and you’re not going to ruin it by making him even more nervous than he already is, despite how much faster you want to take things. You can feel him fighting a conflicting battle to relax into your touch and stay tense and alert for your inevitable rejection of him to occur.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, knowing that he’ll know what you mean. 

You think you feel him nod in agreement, but it could just have been another nervous twitch. He’s so tight and repressed. You stroke him again, up and down as much of his leg you can cover. You could do this all night to him. 

“Can I?” you ask again. You’re not going to do anything more until he makes it clear to you that’s what he wants. 

“Yes.” His voice is a low slow grinding of gears and shifting metal plating in your ear. “Please.” 

You put a hand on either side of his dick and he moans at the contact. Encouraged, you move your hands up and down it. Your movements are slow and your pressure gentle. 

Hubcap wraps one hand around your waist as if to hold you in place, but you’re pretty sure it’s so he can steady himself. You glance down to see what he’s doing with his other hand, and see that he’s gripping the edge of the reinforced metal berth so hard he’s denting it. The hand that’s on your body is feather light. 

You increase your pressure and stroke him. Your flat palms run over every ridge and dip of his dick, from the wide base all the way to the smooth tip. His living metal plating is warm and smooth and leaking. 

Hubcap moans again, and you finally feel him relax. You’ve convinced him that you want him and want this, and you’re not going to run away screaming or trip over yourself laughing and pointing on your way to tell the others.

Fluid is leaking out of his dick, and you coat your hand in it and rub it all over him. His hand tightens around your waist and he leans down and into you to press his face up against yours. It’s sharply angled and smooth and vents a steady stream of warm air onto you.

In the safety of his dimly lit room and the delusion that this could all just be a dream, Hubcap lives out part of his fantasy and talks to you. 

And Goddamn if his voice doesn’t do things to you. His usual stuttering and fragmented sentences have been wiped away and replaced by a voice that is darkly mechanical and smoothly certain. 

He drips his secret desires into your ear like he’s leaking hot oil. Each word is rich and dark and meant to burn. You can’t help but stroke him faster as he describes the things he wants to do to you and what he wants you to do to him. You whine, your underwear now a soaking mess, and feel his lips pressed up against your ear curl into a small smile at your reaction. He does not stop talking. 

You had no idea his imagination was this vivid or his vocabulary this obscene. But he is an Outlier with an invisible skill set, and has kept dark secrets for most of his life. There is a dark core running through him and he is sharing part of it with you.

“Please,” you whisper in encouragement and selfish pleading. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. But I need-… I need…”

Hubcap obliges immediately. You didn’t tell him what you want but he knows that you need something more, anything more, and so he rucks up your skirt and slips a finger under your underwear. 

You inhale sharply at the feel of warm metal against your hot entrance and then you moan as he slides that finger inside you with a confidence that makes you even wetter. He does not stop talking. 

You rock into his hand, encouraging his finger in deeper, and squeeze his dick and that’s what finally makes his smooth voice stutter. You squeeze it again and his voice hitches. He’s leaking steadily now. You coat both of your hands in his fluid and stroke his dick up and down and up and down. 

He makes an indecipherable noise at that and you buck into his hand, wondering if he can interpret what you want. He can. Using just one hand he snaps your underwear off, angles his wrist so that his finger sinks in deeper, and uses the flat of his thumb to rub circles into your clit.

It takes only seconds of this treatment before you gasp and grip him tightly and come hard around him.

He hisses and stops rubbing you to let you recover, but doesn’t remove his hand from you. You slump back into his chest and don’t remove your hands from him. 

After a few moments you start stroking his dick again, this time with only the the tips of your fingers, and he immediately responds by circling his thumb on your clit and pumping his finger inside you again. You’re relaxed and wet and that finger feels fantastic inside you. You spread your legs wider. 

You wonder if his dick would fit inside you. It would be a tight squeeze but you think you could take some of him. With your charge building back up again and without thinking you lift yourself up to try it, but Hubcap stops you and gently sits you back down on him.

“Another time,” he tells you softly, reading your mind. “You need to be prepared first. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say. But you don’t try that movement again. You’re frustrated but grateful for his consideration and patience.

“I might.” His voice is now serious. “I would rather offline myself than hurt you, even accidentally. I would rather melt my brain module down into sludge and carve my own spark out.”

You bend your head and curl down and lick the tip of his dick. 

His cooling fans roar, and his moan is loud enough to be heard over them. You lick it again, a long slow languid lick all over and around it. You collect up as much fluid as you can and swallow it slowly. You lick him a final time and sit back up.

“Please,” Hubcap whines, his soft metal lips up against your ear as he bucks into you for more. “Please.”

“Another time,” you tell him innocently.

You continue stroking and squeezing him, and can sense he’s nearly there. 

“Please,” he says again, except this time there’s a stuttering edge of fear in his voice. “I’m gonna- I mean I can’t- I mean I’m going to…”

His confidence has burnt away and been replaced by the realisation that this is all actually happening, and that any moment now he’s going to come all over you unless you stop touching him or get up from his lap. He doesn’t want to subject you to anything you don’t want, but he doesn’t want those things to happen either.

“Good,” you tell him tightly. “Good.” 

You want to reassure him further and tell him that you’ve fantasized about this happening for a long time, but your own orgasm is approaching fast and you don’t have the ability to formulate any more words. You stroke and squeeze him and he rubs and touches you and you’re gasping now, your open mouth pressed up against his open mouth, and you’re both making the most desperate noises as you pleasure each other. You grasp his dick hard and he sinks his finger as deep it will go and grinds his thumb against you and you both cry out and jerk and come together.

Transfluid splatters down your front. Some of it sprays upwards onto your neck and into your mouth and it’s so much warmer than you’d thought. 

You don’t know how long it takes until you both return and relax but you do, and you slump back together. Hubcap removes his hand from you and turns it over to examine it. It’s wet and glistening. You remove your hands from his dick and hold them up for him to see. He’s venting hot air against you.

“Help me clean up?” you ask.

You feel him nod. He starts moving his hand up to his mouth but you stop him. You take his finger and then his thumb into your mouth and lick them clean. They can’t both fit but you do your best. He vents even harder against your flushed skin.

When his hand is clean you don’t release it - you guide him into using it to clean up your front. He works slowly, and uses a finger to scoop up the fluid that’s covering you. When it’s full you put it to your mouth and suck it clean. The next finger load to clean off is his. Then it’s your turn again. Then his. By the time you’re cleaned off you’ve got a steady heat between your legs again and his dick is getting thick. 

“I think we’ve missed the movie,” you say. 

He takes a second to adjust to this new line of conversation. “Er, yes. Um. Definitely. But- but worth it.”

“And probably missed the start of the second one.”

You feel him smile against you as he catches on. “Yes. Probably. Definitely. So we shouldn’t…rush to get over there?”

You start to unbutton your shirt. “We shouldn’t rush anything.” 

He finishes unbuttoning it for you and puts it carefully to the side. One of his hands slides up towards your chest and the other crawls down between your legs. “Agreed.”


	2. I Wish I'd Locked the Door But Now I'm Glad I Didn't Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door's locked and movie night has been forgotten and they're going to go at it all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An all time favourite trope is someone having solo fun times and fantasising about someone, and that person then suddenly interrupting them. And instead of being horrified and disgusted, that person is HELL YEAH I want you, let's do that thing you were just moaning about before I stumbled across you.
> 
> but when you've spent your life being ignored or too nervous to go after what you want, you're going to have to take things slowly.

Hubcap’s metal fingers are smooth and hot. They’re not rough and textured from a lifetime of manual work, and they’re not cool or cold or warm like the other cybertronian fingers you’ve come into contact with during the course of your work here. They’re hot. 

“You’re running hot,” you tell him, as you lean back against him and keep your legs only slightly open.

“That’s, ah, yes. I guess. I mean- um, I am with you. So.” He responds lightly but hesitantly, uncertain if you’re being serious or flirty and not quite convinced that you like feeling him like this.

You stroke his fingers that are on your chest. “I like it,” you reassure him. You slide your fingers down between the gaps of his fingers and intertwine them with his. “I like you. I was just wondering about it. About you. I, ah, wonder about you a lot. Have wondered. Am still wondering.”

He squeezes your voluntarily trapped fingers gently. “Good. Um. Yes, good.” 

You smile softly and hear the smile in his voice. 

He rubs his thumb over your joined fingers. “I guess...well, I think it’s because of my abilities. How I can block and boost signals. I’m swimming with frequencies that people haven’t come up with words to describe let alone explain them to me and- and I think some of them power up in certain situations and run through me and heat me up and- and yeah. I guess you could say that you...turn me on a lot.”

You smile wider, and a gush of embarrassed heat vents out of him after he says that. You move your fingers in order to extract them from his, and it takes Hubcap a few seconds to realise that you want to break contact with him. He springs his hand open immediately, like a trap that’s caught something precious it shouldn’t have, and you can feel his worry and disappointment bleed through his spark and into your back. 

Before he can convince himself that you’re bored or repulsed by him and have been all along, you put one of his hot metal fingers in your mouth and suck it.

His cooling system activates with a loud click. You hear the soft rotation of fans embedded in his frame and feel a soft but persistent stream of warm air on your skin. 

You lick his finger thoroughly. Up and down and then back into your mouth to suck it and swallow it down to the knuckle. You slide your mouth off of it with a small wet pop and kiss it. Then you put another finger in your mouth and start your attentions over. Then you choose another finger. You take turns tasting all of his digits twice over, and by the time you’ve finished his fans are whirring steadily and the temperature of his vented air is climbing. 

“You’re running hotter now,” you say, making sure your voice has a clear teasing tone to it so he won’t doubt himself again. “And you taste good.”

Hubcap puts both of his hands on your thighs. He angles his hands so that his fingers dip down onto your inner thighs and uses them to spread them ever so slightly more. 

“...I’m glad,” he says, as he caresses your inner thighs with both sets of fingertips. “And yes. I’m- you make me like this. Hot. Hot and happy.”

You involuntarily spread your legs wider for him. But his exquisitely molten fingers don’t delve any deeper or stroke any harder. You’re pressing back into his chest harder, and are leaking all over his thighs.

“I, ah, would like- I mean- if it’s OK with you?” he says. Asks. Stutters.

You want to do anything and everything with him.

You grasp his dick with one hand and squeeze him lightly.

His frame tenses and his fans snick up another gear and his fingers press harder into your skin. 

“Yes,” you say, squeezing him again in the hope that he’ll copy you again and touch you firmer. “Tell me what you want. I, ah, want to do it all with you.”

Hubcap puts his mouth next to your ear, and lowers his voice as if he’s admitting a shameful secret that you might not want to hear but he’s screwing up his courage and is going to ask it anyway. 

“...can I taste you?”

You stop squeezing him, and he immediately stiffens with fear that he’s played this wrong and has ruined everything. “I mean of course if you don’t want to that’s no problem at all it’s not even an issue it’s--”

You cut off his babbling by kissing him.

It's your first kiss together, and it takes him by glorious surprise. 

He kisses you back eagerly, somewhat desperately but still carefully, as if he can’t believe that you actually want to be this intimate with him. You moan into his open mouth and he moans back into yours, and everything is hot and wet and perfect. He tastes like a charged battery. He tastes delicious.

He breaks the kiss and puts his lips on your neck. He kisses up towards your ear, and before you can say or do anything he whisper-rasps “Please. Please let me just- taste more of you, just- please lay on your back?”

You nod quickly.

He manhandles you carefully but efficiently onto your back. In fact his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s practised them before. It’s as if he’s run this scenario through his mind a thousand times and mapped out every movement in the slim chance that it would one day become reality. 

There is so much space on the bed that you could stretch your arms out to either side and not come close to reaching either. But in a burst of spontaneity you decide to put them elsewhere. You put one behind your head to use as a pillow, and look up at him to see if he knows what you’re doing and that you’re not mocking him.

It takes him a few seconds, but he catches on. 

“That’s, ah, the position you...found me in when you came in.” He tries to say this casually with a hint of fake admonishment at you, but his shy voice is all repressed happiness that you found him in the first place and still want to be here with him.

“Not quite,” you say. 

Your other hand slides down your thighs and dips in between your legs. His eyes widen, and that’s the moment you touch yourself. You’re so ready for more that one swipe of your finger on your clit has you inhaling and tensing, and that’s the moment you see a look on his face that tells you he's decided to be spontaneous himself. He lowers himself down, props himself up on forearms, and puts his face right in front of where your finger is working on yourself. 

“...that’s still not right,” he says lowly.

You swallow, and add a second finger to the one that’s rubbing circles on yourself. The heat from his face is mixing with the heat from your body, and when he finally puts a hot hand on your thigh and uses it to spread one leg wider so he can see you better that’s when your skin erupts in sweat.

“Better, but- still not right. Still not accurate.”

You want to say something sharp and witty and fun about how much of a controlling tease he is, but all possible words have died on your tongue. You pick up the pace, but he puts a hand on yours to stop you.

“I did it slowly.” His voice is thick and his eyes bright. “I...took my time. Like this.”

He guides your hand into rubbing circles on yourself at the correct speed. It’s even slower than your initial pace, and you breathe deeply and quickly as you watch him move his hand on yours. 

“Better. Yes. Like that. Except…”

He trails off, mesmerised by what he’s seeing. He licks his lips and you buck forward without thinking. This makes him blink and brings him back to the present. 

“Except I didn’t just use fingers. I...used my whole hand.”

You make a whining sort of sound, but manage to gasp out “Then use it.”

He smiles quickly and kisses your inner thigh even quicker, as if scared that he’ll lose this temporary upper hand if he focuses too much on what he wants to do with his mouth. “Here, like this,” he says. “You could...like this.”

He manipulates your hand so that your thumb is now on your clit and your fingers are curled under and inside yourself. Your fingers aren’t that long and there’s not much of them inside you and you need more, you really need more. 

“Try this,” Hubcap says, reading the expression on your face as if you’d screamed your desires out loud.

He pulls your hand forward so that your thumb comes off yourself, which gives you more finger lengths to push inside yourself. He takes a careful but firm grip of your hand, and slowly pumps it back and forth and fucks you with your own fingers. 

You’re dripping wet and this feels so much better. Your hand and his are slick with fluid and your fingers make the most lewd squelching sound as he slowly pumps them in and out of you. He looks like he’s going to combust or offline any second now. 

“I wonder,” you say slowly and with great effort, “If your dick would make the same sounds as my fingers are doing.”

A grinding mechanical sound roars from inside him and he bites his lip in desperation as he concentrates on maintaining the slow pace he’s sentenced you to.

You’re so close now, and caution and reserve are dead. “You said you wanted to taste me but you're not. After you’ve finished you can clean my fingers off and - ah - make it up to me.”

His reponse is to fuck you even slower. 

When you start panting and are unable to say another word, that's when he angles your fingers up slightly so they’re now higher and to the side, which creates a small space for something more. As he pulls your fingers almost all the way out of you he lines up one of his own fingers from his other hand and pushes all of them back inside. His finger is longer and thicker and hotter and-

-and if the technology existed to translate your noises, they would be translated as “thank fuck yes that’s the perfect fit don’t you dare stop or do anything else this is perfect, perfect.”

Hubcap is the best communications expert alive, and can understand more signals than even he thought possible. He doesn’t change his pace or add or remove a finger and he’s fucking you with dirty purpose now and it feels good, it feels really good and you don’t want it to ever end and you want to tell him this but you can’t and--

And you come with a cry and an arching of your back and a clenching down on your joined fingers and fuck.

It takes a few moments before you can hear anything through the pulse of blood in your ears, and another few before you relax and unclench. 

Hubcap slowly withdraws your hand and his finger and looks at them in naked greed. You make eye contact and he immediately sucks them into his mouth. He is revving loudly and burning up, and you’re not sure whether he’s come himself.

He finishes cleaning your fingers, and rests your hard working hand on your stomach. The arm behind your head is beginning to tingle from constricted blood flow, but you have little energy to move it right now. You feel warm and relaxed and satisfied. You look up at him and smile indulgently. 

“You can make it up to me now.”


	3. Movie Night Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie nights have never been about watching what's on the screen - they're been about watching who's sitting next to you and wondering what's playing out in their head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place sometime after the first two chapters, and isn't a direct continuation of where the second chapter left off. It's short and sweet and is a set up for the second part that's coming up.

This evening you and Hubcap are in your room, and this time you’re sitting on your sofa together watching the viewscreen. 

“This reminds me of movie night,” you tell him. There’s not much space between his metal body and yours, and you can feel a low grade heat radiating off of him. You've been together for over a month now, and haven't told anyone else on board. And that's not because either of you are embarrassed about being with the other, but because neither of you want to be the ship's hot center of attention and risk ruining something that is perfect.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, remembering as well. “The nights I got to sit next to you were the best nights. It didn’t matter what the movie was.”

“Same.” 

He shifts in place, and you know he’s working up the nerve to tell you something. You put a hand on his leg to encourage him to continue. 

“During one of them, one of the movie nights, when we sat next to each other you...leaned up against me once and I- I was hard immediately and stayed that way for the three movies after.”

You blink. “Really?” You ask not in disbelief but in a tone that wants more detail.

He nods. He wants to be more embarrassed about confessing this, but you’re smiling at him and looking at him expectantly, and he’s ninety percent sure you like this kind of talk but he’s been nearly killed by the ten percent before so he’s not going to risk it.

“What did you do about it?” you ask.

“I, err, nothing. Just sat there. You were there and I didn’t- didn’t want to get up and leave you.”

“You didn’t give yourself a helping hand under the covers?”

He flushes and bleeds heat at that but also smiles. “Ah, no, not- not that. I couldn’t risk it. Even though I…”

“Wanted to?”

He gives you a strained sort of self-deprecating look. “Needed to. Those films weren’t short.”

You think back to this particular movie night but can’t recall him acting any differently. He was his usual tense, friendly, nervous self. You remember every time you sat next to him in vivid photographic detail.

“That must have been...hard for you.”

“I’m used to it,” he says without thinking. “Keeping things to myself, keeping quiet, not wanting to scare someone away who might like me and- oh, ha. I see what you said there - ‘hard.’ I heard, actually, not saw. You can’t see words unless they’re written down and this isn’t the case and yeah. Yeah you got me in...quite a state.”

“From leaning against you?”

He breaks eye contact and nods again, his embarrassment creeping back up.

“Like this?”

You move up next to him and press the entire length of your body into his. He is warm and round and smooth, and the nicest thing you’ve ever felt against you.

“Ha, yeah, that- something like that. Yeah. Like that. Like this.” He fiddles with his fingers. “You felt so good against me it sustained me for weeks.”

You look up at him. His eyes are still looking down into his lap. You know he’s not just referring to that moment as a fantasy he replayed over and over again when he touched himself in the privacy of his own room, but also that one brief moment of contact - the fact that someone liked him enough to choose to be that close to him - got him through weeks of public boredom and monotony and loneliness.

“I’m glad,” you say seriously. “I had no idea that it would mean so much to you but I’m glad it does. Did. Does?”

He looks down at you in pure affection and nods. “Yes. Very much so yes.”

You squeeze his metal leg. You can’t make a dent in his plating, but he can feel everything that you’re choosing to do. And you can also feel some of the tension drain out of his frame. He’s confessed something and you’re still choosing to be here with him. You start stroking his thigh, and his tension returns immediately. But this time it’s a different type of tension.

“The next time,” you say slowly, your heart pounding, as if the thought has just occurred to you and hasn’t been a reoccurring fantasy of your own for many months, “That we’re sitting next to each other at movie night and you react to me leaning up against you I could...do something about it maybe?”

In your fantasies you don't suggest you’re going to do something about it, you tell him that you will. But this is real life, and doubts set in at the last moment and pull your punch for you. Maybe he just wants this to stay a fantasy, and actually doing it is something that would make him uncomfortable. 

You shouldn’t doubt yourself. You should never doubt yourself when it comes to sharing fantasies with him.

Hubcap’s entire frame heats up at the thought of what you could do to him in such a scenario, the two of you pressed up next to each other in a dark room, a blanket over your laps and a crowd of people that might see some or all of it.

“Ah, yes, that- yes. Yes please. What,” he swallows thickly, and makes a clear effort not to talk too fast and come across as too eager “What are you...thinking of doing to me?”

Now you know he’s one hundred percent into this and is practically drooling at the thought of you touching him in public, you stroke his thigh all the way up and all the way back down. 

“Well,” you say, as if this is the most serious question you’ve ever been asked. “I’d first have to see what I’d be working with. And by see I mean feel, so I- no, wait! Before you do anything else go and get one of my blankets - the extra large one on the shelf up there. Let’s practice this properly before we do it for real.”

He groans as he stands up quickly, and stumbles to get a blanket from where you’ve indicated. He returns and sits down heavily next to you. He puts the blanket over your laps and rolls it down to cover both of your legs.

You both rest your clasped hands on top of the blanket. You then look at each other and look away just as quickly, smiling with nerves and anticipation.

You take a deep breath and quickly put one of your hands under the blanket. You wince at how obvious your movement was. "I'll do this better when it counts," you apologise. "Not so fast and obvious and just…better."

He tilts his head down and kisses you, and puts his own hand under the blanket to join yours. "Everything you do is perfect," he whispers. 

He kisses you again, and you feel his hand begin to move. "Everything about you is perfect."

You close your eyes and begin your first practice.


	4. Movie Night Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This follows on from Movie Night Part 1 and is longer and more explicit and still doesn't contain much movie watching.

In a large darkened room full of Cybertronians ready to forget about work and quests and their latest avoidable near death experience, movie night is about to begin.

You and Hubcap got there early to ensure you can claim one of the smaller seats at the back of the room and sit together. You carry a rolled up blanket under your arm.

The room fills up steadily. Bots greet you and exchange a few words and there’s chattering and laughing and the sounds of food packets opening and drinks being poured and there’s sound, and heat, and a steady thrum of electricity between you both that’s invisible and thick and crackling. The first movie starts up and there’s a round of shushing and arguing and settling down before everyone’s attention faces forward to the projected image on the wall. 

You look forward as well, but your attention is on your hammering heart and who’s sitting next to you and what you both want to do. 

With deliberate casualness you unroll the blanket, and he helps you spread it over both of you. There’s nothing suspicious about what you’re doing, because this is a normal thing for people to do when settling down for a movie marathon. Several other bots have blankets or heated pads or foot rests and it doesn’t look out of place.

You’re both covered from the waist down and your clasped hands are on top of your lap and if anyone were to look at you they’d see nothing out of the ordinary. But everyone’s attention is elsewhere, and the room is dark and you’re sitting at the back of it.

You wait another few minutes just to be certain, and then a few more, and then a few more, and when your heart has settled into a rhythm that prioritises desire over nerves that’s when you slowly slide your hand under the blanket and rest it on his leg. Your movement is calm and smooth and calculated. All those practice sessions have paid off.

Hubcap tenses almost imperceptibly. The next part of the plan is for him to wait another few minutes before he copies you and puts his own arm under the blanket. You can practically see the electronic timer tick down in his head.

After what seems like an hour and just before you start to worry you’ve badly miscalculated and you’ve messed up and made a mistake initiating any of this, you feel his hand press up against your leg.

A dose of pure electricity shoots up your spine and electrifies your heart and threatens to short circuit your head because this is happening, you think this is actually going to happen.

You both wait another few minutes in case someone loudly asks why they can only see one of your hands on top of the blanket and where are your others huh? What are they doing? What are you both doing back there?

No-one does. 

After another interminable wait that’s measured in seconds this time, you both put your other arms underneath the blanket. Your movements are still controlled but this time not as slow. The covered space your lower body and arms are occupying is constricted and warm from the heat rising from your body and his frame.

He puts his hand on your knee and slowly, with just the flat of his thumb, rubs it. That electrical current freefalls down into your stomach and crashes between your legs. He rubs you slowly, and carefully, and never goes higher than where your skirt ends. 

You stroke his leg in turn. Your hand moves slowly over his warm metal plating, as if you’re exploring him for the first time and you have to be careful, and quiet, because this mission could fail before it’s truly begun.

The full length of his leg presses into yours and you press yours hard back into his. Your hand trails down his inner thigh and his hand immediately does the same to you, his warm metal fingers stroking your soft skin from your knee up to your thigh and back again. His movements mirror yours in that they’re so careful they border on hesitant.

You spread your legs slightly wider and stroke him slightly higher. He responds in turn, and caresses your knee slightly faster and now slightly higher, his hand stroking up your thigh and up past your skirt, one smooth fingertip at a time, and you wish you could watch them disappear. You stroke him higher as well, one square inch of metal at a time, and when you reach his interface panel your hand stops and rests there. You rub him once, hesitantly, and then twice, slightly harder, and when he arches up into your hand because he can’t get enough of you you keep on rubbing.

You notice that he’s not touching you any higher. 

The possibility that he’s reluctant to continue with any of this flashes through your mind, but your instinct tells you that he’s teasing you deliberately. You’ve got three long movies to watch, and he wants to draw this out. 

You want this to last too. But his fingers on your skin are now moving steady and sure and you want more of them, you want more of him. You just need more and you need them to - move up a bit, to touch you a bit harder, touch you a bit faster, and maybe if you made it more obvious this is what you want then he’ll oblige. Maybe if you made it easier for him then he’ll claim more of you.

Your leg can’t press into him any closer, but it can go over him.

You raise your leg slowly, and slightly, so that your knee is above his and you pause, briefly, and then allow it to tilt over. You feel a burst of warm air venting from him as he realises what you’re trying to do. He stops rubbing you so that he can take a gentle hold of your leg and slide it over his as far as it will go. 

You’ve now been spread open and your skirt has rucked up and he’s stroking you again, this time moving slowly from your knee and up your inner thigh and he’s not stopping or retreating and he makes his own move, and angles his head so that he can kiss your neck as his hand strokes all the way up your leg and past your skirt and- 

And you knew what you were doing when you chose the movies for tonight, because you requested loud action movies that hold a viewer’s attention and drown out other sounds and it’s a very good thing a thumping action scene is playing at the moment, because that means only you get to hear the sound Hubcap makes when his hand stops moving.

You’re not wearing any underwear.

All your practice sessions had you wearing it and him navigating around it, but you thought that when it came to the real thing it would be easier for both of you if they weren’t there. And it was because you simply wanted to surprise him. 

You look at him politely, as if surprised that he’s made such an unexpected sound and you’d like to know why he’s done so.

His answer is to sink a finger inside you all the way up to the knuckle.

You inhale sharply and gasp see a head turn towards you and you freeze and don’t move and don’t breathe and a quiet scene is playing and someone heard you someone heard you they must have and there’s an action scene now, there’s some noise, and you still don’t move and still don’t breathe and finally, finally, that head turns back around to watch the screen and you breathe again.

He looks at you innocently.

You could have been caught. You could have been caught and were you caught? You don’t think so. 

Your heart is thumping and your throat is dry and you shouldn’t be surprised he’s so much like you but you are and you know he likes it as much as you do, and if he doesn’t start moving his finger inside you soon you’re going to scream.

You squeeze his leg as hard as you dare and he interprets your wishes correctly and moves his finger. 

He moves it slowly.

In imitation of when he first touched you, after you barged into his room and caught him in the act, Hubcap fucks you with his hand slowly. He angles his hand so that one finger pumps in and out of you languidly, while his thumb rubs careful circles into your clit. You feel his interface panel transform away, and you wrap your hand around his dick as soon as it appears.

You stroke him lazily. He’s thick and hot and feels excellent.

And it’s only after you’ve been touching him for a few minutes that you realise his interface transformation didn’t make a sound. That sort of transformation is never loud on any bot, but it always makes a soft click or snick or some kind of sound. You’ve been making an effort to focus intently on any sounds you might both be making so that you don’t get caught, so maybe you just missed it. The action film is loud and brash and you’ve got the competing sound of blood pumping in your ears and it would be easy to miss a small sound.

You’re confident the up and down movements your hand is making isn’t drawing attention and you’re feeling good, you’re feeling very good, from how he’s touching you. You spend time rubbing the fluid leaking out of the tip of his dick with the flat of your thumb, and allow it to spread around your fingers and smear in between them and you do it again and again and again.

You’re so wet you’re leaking around his finger. You wonder if you’re both leaking onto the sofa as well, and you realise that you should have brought another blanket to sit on or double folded the one you’re using but it’s too late now, because all you can think about is how good it feels to be touching each other like this at the back of a dark room full of people who have no idea what’s happening. You didn’t think you’d be into something like this as much as you are, but the danger of being caught and the thrill that you’re getting away with it has set your blood on fire. 

You also have to think hard about not making a sound or squirming around too much, and it’s getting more difficult to prevent either from happening. Hubcap’s rhythm is perfect. He never falters or fades, and strokes you with a relentless mechanical precision that no human could ever hope to maintain and you’re biting your lip now, your teeth are digging into your skin and your eyes have closed, and you’re so wet and close and hot and you fist a handful of blanket and squeeze him tightly as it builds and builds and builds and builds and you squeeze your eyes tighter and grit your teeth and come with a fierce little spasm you try your hardest to control. 

Almost immediately you let go of him and the blanket and open your eyes and dart glances around the room. No-one is looking your way. You scan everyone again just to be sure and you think you’re safe, you think you got away with it. Over the sound of a car crash playing out on the screen you let out the breath you’ve been deliberately holding. You did it. You got away with it. You slump backwards in relief.

Hubcap removes his hand from you and uses it to stroke your inner thigh as you continue to recover. 

You spend a few minutes watching the film just to be sure. 

You start stroking his dick again, and feel a fresh trickle of fluid over your fingers. He really does feel good. He’s so responsive, and considerate, and silent and warm and-

Silent. He’s completely silent.

He’s not making a single sound. Which was the plan of course, but now that you think about it you haven’t heard even a soft whirring of fans or clink of gears or a stifled moan escape from him. These are all sounds he made during the first two seconds of all your practice sessions, which you both agreed could be masked by the loud action sequences. You thought he’d have made at least one sound after his quickly cut off noise of surprise at finding you weren’t wearing any underwear, because it was only after that reveal that you started touching him. You thought he’d have made at least some indication that your touch felt good and that he was into this for real and- and you really did think that he’d be enjoying this.

Heavy disappointment and prickling fear seep into you like a thick fog, and your movements on him stutter and slow and stop. You’re not going to continue with this if he doesn’t like it. Or if you’re no good.

You chance a brief glance at him, not wanting to see the blank endurance and masked discomfort on his face but you’re unable to stop yourself. He’s not having a good time and it’s your fault and you deserve to feel bad.

But you don't see what you expect to.

His face is an artwork. It’s tense repressed pleasure and contorted disappointed that you’ve stopped and alarming angles of concern that you’ve stopped. His facial plating is trembling. His lips are pressed tightly together. His eyes are wide and flushed with frustration and bright with concern and that’s when you realise what he’s done.

He’s offlined his vocaliser. 

He’s offlined his vocaliser and found a way to block the signals his body usually makes in response to physical touch and emotional stimulation. That’s why you didn’t hear his interface panel transform, and why you haven’t heard his cooling fans or internal systems working.

This wasn’t part of the plan or in the practice sessions. This is outright cheating. 

But you’re smiling, and he sees that you are. 

A ripple of apology and the equivalent of a shoulder shrug that says ‘can you blame me?’ then passes over his face. He knows that you know he’s powered his vocaliser down and used his abilities to block his own signals, and he’s sorry he didn’t warn you beforehand but he’s not going to turn any of them back on because he’s already too far gone and can’t risk it.

You can’t deny that this is a nice ego boost. Just your hand stroking him and your clear enjoyment at living out this fantasy of his has got him so worked up he was forced to undertake emergency modifications on his own systems.

You start stroking him again, and your relief at knowing that he’s having too much of a good time already makes your movements slow and confident.

But Hubcap squeezes your leg to get your attention, and there’s a look of serious apology on his face now.  
He’s telling you that yes you came but you came quickly and couldn’t relax into it, and you can’t turn your sounds off and you’ll not be able to switch off to enjoy this to the depth that he can so are you sure you want to continue?

You squeeze his leg with your other hand and press your face into him and kiss his flushed metal plating. You tell him that you are truly and genuinely not upset with him, and that you want him to enjoy all of this as much as possible.

He rubs his thumb over your knee in spark deep gratitude and kisses you back, telling you that you only have to say the word and he’ll help you live out any fantasy you want and pleasure you in all the ways you can think of.

You store this promise away for later, and allow it to sit warm and comfortably in your chest. You have so many fantasies you want to share with him and try out, and you know exactly what your first one is going to be.

But back to tonight. Back to now. Back to stroking and squeezing his dick with slow sure purpose, except this time you’re watching his face and taking pleasure from how much your touch is ruining him. The movie no longer exists for you. He is the only thing you want to watch.

Hubcap doesn’t make a sound, but he does move. He hasn’t blocked the signals to the gears and wires and pumps and pistons that create the foundations of his plating, and you can see every time those plates tense and expand and contract and grind against each other. And it’s not just his facial plating that’s moving - his hands are. 

He’s not touching you between your legs any more, which is absolutely fine, but his hand is still on your leg that’s draped over his and he’s pulling it. He’s pulling it gently over his own leg further, as if unaware of what he’s doing, but you know what he’s thinking about and what he wants. He’s trying to get more of you onto him. 

He’s trying to get you onto his lap. 

You let out a soft moan, and forget to care if anyone heard. 

The next time he unknowingly tugs at you, you move with him. He tenses briefly in surprise at the realisation of what he’s been doing and then shivers when he understands that you want this as well. He puts a hand on your upper back and gently presses on it to encourage you to lean forward slightly. He then snakes that hand and arm down and around your waist and pulls you into him. You both wait one, two, several more seconds to be sure that no-one’s seen or is watching and then slowly, carefully, as if he’s handling the most precious thing in existence, he slides you onto his lap. 

This is explicit and forbidden, and you’re so hot and wet it’s scalding.

You do a quick check to make sure the blanket is still in place and then reach for his dick again. You wrap both hands around it and stroke him up and down and up and down and he’s leaking so steadily now. You slide one hand down in front of him to his valve. That’s an area to focus on another time, but you want to feel more of him. You need to feel more of him. He’s soaking, just like you are, and you dip your hand into him as far as it will go. His hands tighten around your waist, and you can practically feel his moans vibrating through his fingers. 

You withdraw your fluid covered hand and go back to stroking his dick with it. Your hands are slick and you can’t help yourself, this is all so dirty and you want something more, you want to push things further and you just want more, so you put your fingers inside yourself. 

He must hear the sounds your fingers make as clearly as you do. The movie has receded into a dull background noise, and your hearing is fine tuned to your controlled breathing and the sounds your body is making in response to being with him like this.

You touch yourself for long slow minutes.

He eventually pulls your sticky fingers out of yourself, and you’re sure he’s going to replace them with his own and you’re impatient for them already, but that’s not what he does. Instead he takes both of your hands and puts them back on his dick. He holds them in place, raises himself up slightly so you’re tilted forward, and pushes his dick back into you so that it’s now rubbing up against you. He moves slowly, and carefully, and stokes up your fire relentlessly as he helps you grind up against him. 

You’re both so wet and hot and he’s so hard and smooth and that slow friction against your clit again and again and again feels fantastic and there’s an ache inside you that needs attention and it's not going away and you’ve come this far and you don’t want any of it to stop so fuck it.

You relax your hands and he responds immediately by releasing his hands from yours. You edge forward carefully, your heart hammering, and ever so carefully lift yourself up. For one blinding hot second he becomes immobile as he realises what you want to do. This was discussed and practised during the practice sessions and you both said you wanted it, but you both also agreed that it was too risky to actually do.

He then reboots, and holds your waist with hot fingers that grip you almost painfully. You’d love to hear the sounds he’s making in the safety of his mind as you take hold of his dick with one hand, put the other one on his thigh to balance yourself, and line him up with your entrance. You lift yourself up a final time and then slowly, inch by hot metal inch, sink down onto his dick. Your blood is pulsing thick and fast in your ears because you’re doing this, you’re actually fucking doing it. 

You’ve trained your body to take almost all of him, and you’re so wet that you think you’ve taken even more. 

He holds you so that you’re not uncomfortable and don’t take more of him than you can handle, and he’s bleeding heat and desire so thickly onto you that you’re tattooed with it. 

You reach down and touch the part of his dick that can’t fit in you. You start from the base and stroke up to yourself and back down again, your fingers moving seamlessly from where warm living metal sinks into warm living flesh and you can’t help but groan at what you’re feeling. 

Someone in front of you stands up.

Your breath dies in your mouth and you both freeze. 

A tiny, twisted, dangerous part of you hopes that they’ll turn around and see what you’re doing.

But the larger stronger sensible part of you easily overrules that, and you wish with a silent fierceness that they won’t turn around and catch you both in the act.

They don’t.

They stretch, reach over to get some more snacks, apologise to their grumbling neighbour for disturbing them, and sit back down. An intense action scene screams across the projection.

You allow yourself to breath again. Short, shallow, controlled breaths so that no-one can hear them. You watch the projection intently for a minute. Hubcap eventually strokes your sides in reassurance, and at his touch it’s like a switch flicks on. That dangerous moment is wiped away and consigned to history and is replaced with the pleasurable fire that was building up in you. You rock your hips slowly, and the metal fingers on your damp skin tighten. 

You know that you'll set the pace here. However you want to do this is fine with him because he'll always do anything for you, and because he never thought this would happen and anything that does happen is a gift he doesn’t feel that he deserves.

You ride him slowly. 

The first movie hasn’t finished yet and you’ve got plenty of time and you fuck him slowly.

But that’s easier said than done, because this all feels so good. You’ve never done anything remotely forbidden before yet here you are, slowly rocking back and forth on his dick in a room full of people that would off-line if they knew you’d even thought about doing something like this let alone carry it out in front of them.

He fills you perfectly, and now that he’s calibrated your weight against the position of his frame he can support you comfortably with just one arm. His other hand crawls down your skin, refusing to break contact for even a second, and comes to rest in between your legs in the area you’d been touching before you groaned. 

He touches his own dick and strokes up to where you sink into him, his movements slow and loving, as if he can’t believe you’re here with him like this and that you fit so perfectly together. He then trails his fingers up to caress your clit before sliding back down and starting over again. The next time his fingers reach their ascent you buck forwards slightly, telling him that you need more attention there and that you can take it and want it and don’t care about anything else except his touch and please. He slides his fingers down again and you wonder if you weren’t clear enough, but it’s at that moment that a finger from the hand around your waist dips down and starts rubbing soft circles into you.

There’s rocking and stroking and clenching and rubbing. There’s a fistful of blanket in one hand and a wad of it stuffed into your mouth for you to bite down on and he does not once alter his pace or pressure and it’s not stopping it’s not stopping.

He holds you steady as you begin to fold over onto him. 

As you grit your teeth and close your eyes the thought flashes through your mind that you’re approaching the point where you can’t care if anyone sees you. Jagged thoughts flitter through your mind and you grasp for some to focus on so that there’s a sharpness to distract you from the overwhelming urge to cry out his name.

You wonder if he wants to be discovered. You wonder if he wants everyone to know that someone wants him so badly that they can't help but crawl into his lap in front of a room full of people so they can fuck him. You wonder if he wants everyone to know that you want him and only him, and that he’s treating you so well that you look like you’re going to black out from pleasure. 

You wonder what you do look like. You wonder what other people’s reactions would be if they turned around and saw you. You wonder if he wants someone to watch you. You wonder if he wants someone to watch him. You wonder if he wants an entire room full of people to watch the two of you and have no choice but to touch themselves and each other because of what they see you doing. You’ll have to ask him these questions later.

And that’s the last coherent thought you have.

That relentless wave that’s been cresting higher and higher swells one final time and breaks and smacks into you and you see stuttering white lights against a field of indigo black as you clench and come so hard around him it’s otherworldly.

You don’t know how much time passes afterwards.

But you eventually unclench, relax, and settle back into him. A different action sequence is playing on the projector, but you have no idea if you’re now on the second movie or not. You’re drenched in sweat, and you take the blanket out of your mouth and wipe your face with it. Hubcap’s stopped moving and stopped touching you, and is still hard inside you. 

You glance around the room slowly, and don’t see anyone looking in your direction. You relax further, and a rush of feel good chemicals is given permission to flood your body. You stroke his arms and hands and fingers in happy gratitude for making you feel so good.

He angles his head and kisses your damp neck. He is so achingly hard inside you.

You put your hands over his and rock backwards and forwards, your movements slightly faster and definitely bolder, which tells him that you only care about what he thinks and that you want to continue so that he can feel good too.

He wraps both arms around you and pushes into you. It only takes a few moments before he’s adjusted his rhythm to complement yours, and the combination of rocking and thrusting and gentle stroking along his arms brings him to the edge quickly. 

His hands clench into you tightly, which is his warning that he's close and can’t hold on for much longer, and if you don’t want to be filled up then now's the time to ease off of him and slide back down beside him.

Your answer is to grind down into him harder.

You want every part of him that he’s willing to offer and always will, and you’ll just have to do the best you can when it comes to cleaning up afterwards. But it's difficult to care when every part of this feels so good. 

His entire frame is hunched forward so that his head is burrowing into the space between your neck and shoulder, still not making a single sound but absolutely thrumming with tension. He presses into you harder as if he could meld into you, and rubs his lips against you in a desperate attempt at a kiss. He's living out one of his ultimate fantasies, and wants you to know how good this feels and how much he appreciates you. He wants you to know how much he loves you.

You stroke his arm to tell him that you love him as well, and that you want him to enjoy this.

His fingers press into you tighter and it doesn’t hurt and you want him to do anything he wants, and what he does is pull you back flush against him and holds onto you for dear life as he spasms and bucks up and comes again and again inside you. 

You feel a gush of warm fluid inside and around you. There’s so much of it it’s leaking out already. You squirm into him so you can spread more of it onto you both. He kisses your neck again, just as desperate but this time longer, and doesn’t relax his hold on you.

You feel like you could stay like this for the rest of the night.

The first movie ends, and you feel a quick pulse of fear that now you’ll be discovered, but the sting fades quicker than you were anticipating and you’re not caught by anyone. 

The second movie starts up. He’s still a smooth warm presence enveloping you, but there’s now a wet cooling between your legs and you shift in place. Hubcap’s fine tuned himself to detect even the most mild discomfort you can experience, and he unwraps his arms and peels his hands off of you so he can help you slide off of him. You do so slowly, and more fluid escapes from you.

He makes sure you’re settled next to him and have adjusted your clothes, and before you can indicate the mess that’s everywhere you see that he’s got a thick cloth in his hand. He slowly wipes it everywhere, and the modified fibers absorb everything from every surface. He also had something planned ahead of time that would benefit you both.

You look him in the eye and he leans down and you kiss him deeply.

He finishes cleaning, puts the cloth away, and stands up.

You’re too drowsy to feel anything more than a mild current of concern about why he’s done this, but he returns almost instantly. He hands you a drink and some food and you take both gratefully. He sits back down beside you, helps you fold the blanket up so that it’s now covering just your laps, and you both put your arms on top of it. You reach for one of his hands to hold and he takes it instantly. You are both so incredibly warm. 

You watch the remaining two movies and have no idea what happens in either of them.

The last movie ends and the lights turn on. People glance over and see the two of you sitting together, your head resting on his shoulder and his head on yours, your fingers lightly intertwined and a soft deep smile of contentment on your faces. 

You’ve both made the decision to sit like this knowing that everyone will see you together, and that's not because you want them to catch you with the other - it's because you want to show off that you’re with the other.

Some bots look shocked at what they see, and nudge each other and whisper. A couple give the impression that they couldn’t care less and are bored already. Several others look like they’d already known that you'd end up together and this is no surprise at all. One of them gives you a thumbs up. 

You watch them mill about or file out of the room, and are happy to just sit and never move again.

“Enjoy the movies?” someone asks you from across the room.

“Oh, yes,” you say. Your voice is slightly raspy from not being used all night, and you cough several times to clear it. “They were great.”

“Of course she likes the movies, she chose them,” another bot says pityingly.

“I was just asking! There’s no need to be rude.”

“There’s no need to be stupid.”

You let their bickering wash over and into you, and it’s only when one of them makes eye contact with you that you rouse yourself and pay full attention to him.

“So...you and Hubcap huh?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, smiling. “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you. For you both.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to ditch us and abandon movie nights?”

“No, not at all,” you say seriously. “We love them. Tonight was...well tonight was one of the best nights.”

“Good. We like having you here. And besides,” the bot continues, his tone now light and clearly joking, “You can wait a few hours and before you can no longer keep your hands to yourself, can’t you?”

You fight back a different kind of smile. “Ha, yeah, of course we can.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m just teasing you, you know. We all know you two wouldn’t do anything inappropriate back there together. You don’t have it in you.” 

“You, uh, know us too well,” Hubcap says, squeezing your hand.

You squeeze it back. “Yeah. We wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.”

"That would be, uh, wrong. We're too considerate.”

You rub your thumb slowly over his fingers and bring his hand up to your mouth to kiss it. “Yes you are.”


	5. Electromagnetic Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is because being bent over a desk is....hnnnnng. Pretty much perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah I'm terrible at updating stories once I've finished writing new chapters, and will try to get better at it. I think I finished this one over a month ago. It's a stand alone installment, and doesn't follow directly from any earlier chapter or require you to have read them. It involves disturbing him when he's working late in his office, a desk, and an energon cube.

It’s late at night, and you’re in a small office at the back of the ship. The low lighting in it is generated from softly glowing monitors and dimmed cabin lighting, but is outshone by the string of blue and purple lights running along the ship’s exterior. They blur soft neon through the small window to your side.

You’re bent forward at the waist over his desk, skirt hitched up and underwear looped around one foot, shoes on and otherwise fully clothed with your legs spread wide and pressed up flush against the cool metal of the desk so that you’re trapped and cannot move.

Your arms are stretched out in front of you, and are surrounded by screens and datapads and electrical communications equipment that you do not know the name of. His hands are on top of yours so that you’re trapped and cannot move.

"This is what happens when you, ah, disturb me at work,” Hubcap explains, as if now is the time to lay out your fate for you. He’s been fucking you slowly for several delicious seconds now, and only now has his vocaliser steadied enough to talk. “This- this is what I'm going to do to you. All night long this is what I’m going to do to you."

You love his dirty talk.

“You have to learn that there are consequences when you barge in unannounced and see things that you shouldn’t and- and this is what will happen to you, and- ah, god you feel amazing and- and are you good? Are you still OK with this?"

You love that he keeps checking with you.

You nod. All of this was your idea, and when you’d finally worked up the nerve to bring it up with him he’d agreed to it immediately. He’s eager bordering on desperate to live out any fantasy you want, and this has been one of yours for years. But you’ve never been with anyone you’ve felt comfortable enough to try this with. They’ve never hit all the checkmarks on your folded up page of desires, but he does. 

"Good,” he says, rubbing a thumb over your clenched hand as he grinds up into you. “I mean good for me. You're going to let me do what I want with you, and that's because you have no choice. You, uh, have to learn what happens when you disturb me working late at night and this is it. This is what I want and- and it’s still what you want right?”

You love that he switches back and forth between the two.

You nod again and he strokes your arms.

He slides his dick in and out of you with a repetition that’s remorseless. His strokes are long and slow and luxurious, and he makes sure that you’re angled perfectly so that he rubs against you perfectly each time. He is slow and thick and steady, and you groan long and low as you feel a warmth inside you that’s the first burning ember of a fire that will rage through you.

"OK?" he asks immediately.

“Yeah,” you say thickly. “Feels good.”

“Good. I mean good for me.” 

He removes one hand from yours and puts it on your waist, hesitating for a second. Then he slides it back further, to where his dick is buried inside you, and takes a gentle hold of you and spreads you wider. 

You groan longer and louder.

“That won’t help,” he tells you. “I’ve, ah, soundproofed this room and, um, blocked all visual feeds into and out of it. The primary security camera’s offline and those- ah, god, you feel fantastic, hidden backdoor feeds put there by our suspicious and less than scrupulous colleagues have all been severed. No-one can see or hear us.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” you lie.

He removes his other hand from your arm and rests it lightly on your lower back. You don’t move your arms from their prone position. He strokes down, down your clothed back to the bunch of rolled up material that’s your skirt and down further, to where his warm metal dick is disappearing inside you. He holds you just as gently on the other side and spreads you even wider.

You’re very glad the room is soundproof.

You wonder what you look like, bent over and spread wide and taking his entire dick without even a hint of a struggle. 

You’re breathing heavily and he’s venting hotly and he feels so good, this all feels so good, and you alternate between pressing your forehead into the desk and raising it up as far as your neck will stretch. You can’t stay still and you don’t want to move. 

You feel his warm mouth at your ear. 

“...have you learnt your lesson yet?”

You pause for a second as your thoughts stutter and reconnect. You drink in his rich voice like it’s liquid gold and shake your head.

“I, uh, appreciate your honesty.” He slowly slides all the way out, and the friction from his malleable ridges makes your mouth fall open.

“But it won’t help.” He slides back inside you just as slowly, and doesn't stop until he's hilted and you're so full it almost aches.

“It's too little too late. You...have no choice now. This is what’s happening and this- this is what’s going to happen to you until I decide it's time to stop. And I’m not going to stop for a very long time.” 

He presses his cheek up against yours, adjusts his hold on you, and fucks you even slower. He fucks you with a purpose so controlled that it's easy to believe that this was all his idea - that this was his master plan all along, and he'd been simply biding his time until you slipped up and presented him with the opportunity to put you in your place.

"Are you…?” He leans away, and looks back at your open mouth and lips and chin. “...drooling? Are you- did I?" He moans at what his touch is doing to you.

"Better clean it up," you say quietly.

"Giving me...orders?" His attempt to pretend to be in control is ruined by how quickly he puts his mouth and tongue to work on your wet skin.

"Mmmm," you manage, as he cleans up your chin. He licks your lips and into your open mouth, and you feel his fingers press into you a fraction harder as you suck his tongue into your mouth.

It's a standard fact that he runs hotter than the average cybertronian, and right now he's bleeding so much heat into you that you wish you weren't wearing anything at all. His cooling system is one small fan and a layer of exothermic transfer modules that coat his entire frame like invisible paint, and they're all being overworked.

You kiss him wetly one last time, and then you tilt your head away. You're sure his frame is resilient enough to withstand what you're doing without involuntarily offlining, but you're not currently in the mood to push him too far and risk him stopping what he's doing. That's a fantasy further on down the list.

With a noise that could be regret or relief or anticipation, he moves his head so that it's hovering just over yours. He's leaning over you and holding you and fucking you just how you want it, and you decide that you need to interrupt his work at least once a day as well as once a night.

You feel a wetness on the back of your neck.

It’s thick and warm and crawling down your skin, and you know what it is even though you can’t see it. He’s drooling onto you. A long drop of energon has leaked out of his mouth and has elongated, stretched, broken and fallen onto you as he fucks you and sinks down further into blissful oblivion.

“Better clean that up too,” you tell him.

He groans again, and this time it’s rough with regret that he’s being brought up to the surface. But it’s not for long. His mouth collapses onto you and he kisses you hard, an unnecessary apology for showing even a second’s worth of frustration at something you’ve said. 

He puts his mouth and tongue back to work, and you make a note to ask him about the specifications of his cooling fan. You’re breathing deeply, your blood is pulsing thickly in your ears, and you’re making inarticulate noises and pleading desperately to nameless beings, but you can still hear the laboured workings of his frame. If he does overheat and offline and collapse behind you, you’ll sit next to him and make sure he’s OK.

Maybe you’ll sit on his face and make sure he’s OK. 

You groan loudly at that unplanned thought, and he immediately tightens his grip on you in question and concern.

"This is perfect," you breathe in reassurance. You're breaking character and the tone of this while he's trying harder to maintain it, but you know that he won't mind in the slightest.

"You’re perfect," he tells you immediately, his voice as soft and sincere as the circles he's rubbing into you with his fingers. "I'll do anything for you, I swear I will. For the rest of time I’ll do anything for you."

He pulls almost all the way out of you, and as his dick sinks back in and fills you up completely, he kisses you so softly and warmly it’s like a ray of sunshine on your skin.

"Don't stop this,” you say, as you squirm and try to push back into him even further. “Please don’t stop any of this, please."

"I won't." His hot metal fingers hold onto your skin tighter, and you choose not to move. "I promise. But- but you only have to say the word and I will, OK?"

You nod. You came up with the safeword, and you know that before the first syllable has even left your mouth he’ll stop whatever he’s doing. But you don’t want him to ever stop. 

His angle is just as perfect as yours is and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down or speed up and you’re soaking wet and leaking and you know there’s no-one else in the world you’d rather have behind you sliding into you like this. You know that after everything he’s been through he knows how to keep a secret and how to delay a victory, and he’s going to put you first and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

He removes his hands from your waist, and you make a rough sound of loss. 

He puts his hands back on yours and presses down on them carefully, so that once again you’re trapped between his cool desk and his warm metal plating and cannot move. 

“You need to learn,” he says, voice lower and surer now that you’ve let out a wanton noise from being fucked and spoken to like this. “You will...listen and not speak.” 

You’re so wet that he has to adjust his footing to ensure his dick hilts inside you every time.

“And that’s because I...won’t let you. You can make...sounds all you want but- but you can’t talk back and-”

He’s struggling to speak and you’re struggling to stay silent and you’re both desperate for more but you know that the payoff’s going to be worth it if he keeps fucking you like this, nice and slow and steady, your body unable to move as he takes you over his neatly arranged desk that he’s spent so much time sitting behind alone and that’s why you came to visit him, to see if he was OK, and as he told you fake-sternly that you’d made a big mistake disturbing the secret project he was working on, you knew that the only mistake you’ve ever made with him was not telling him you wanted him sooner. 

“I love you,” you tell him on impulse. “But I don’t have the words to tell you how much.”

There is a ringing moment of silence. 

“It’s only ever been you,” you continue, as your heart, head and blood erupt in fizzing fire. “For the rest of my life it will only ever be you.”

His pretence at being dominant collapses, and he kisses you fast and soft and desperately. 

Your time alive is a blink of an eye compared to his long lifespan, one single solitary blink. And you’ve chosen to dedicate what short existence you have to him and him alone.

His arms are now holding you freely and softly, his fingers splayed to touch as much of you as possible. His self-control is absolute and he has not, has not, slowed or quickened his pace and is still fucking you slowly and completely with a frame that’s molton with his affections.

You remove one hand from where it's been gently trapped and put it on top of his. You both now have one hand on the desk and one hand on top of each others. All of your fingers are intertwined.

"Please," you gasp. "Please. You promised me you wouldn't stop this, you promised."

"I won't," he rasps. "I won't. I promise I won't. I won’t, I won’t.”

A hot wave is building up inside of you, remorseless and consuming and you’re helpless in the face of it and you cannot move, you don’t want to move, and it doesn’t stop and he doesn’t stop and this is just pure pleasure nothing but pleasure and as it crests and breaks and hits you you squeeze his fingers and cry out his name and come so hard that your vision blurs.

One second later he's squeezing your fingers back and screaming your name louder and coming even harder.

You don’t ever want to move again.

You regain your breath and eventually your other senses, and feel his magnificent heat cool by slow degrees.

You wonder if he’ll remember what you wanted him to do next. You wonder if he still wants to do it. You stroke the fingers of one of his hands and don’t mind in the slightest if he doesn’t.

He strokes your fingers in turn, and then reaches out with that hand along the desk. He pulls it back and adjusts his position, so that he’s standing up straight behind you. When you feel a slightly fumbling movement and a smooth hardness pressed up against the back of your thighs, you know that he’s remembered. 

And when he bends his head and kisses as much of you as he can, you know that he still wants to. 

You make a sound that’s unequal parts shame and desire and anticipation, and his reassuring touches tell you that he wants this even more than you do, and that’s because it’s something that you want and he’s the one that can provide it.

The square energon cube feels cool against your damp skin.

He drags the cube up your leg, and positions it below your entrance as best as possible. He kisses you again to ask for confirmation, and you answer him yes by kissing him back.

He withdraws his dick from you slowly.

You feel your mixed fluids pour out of you in a controlled release and he does his best to catch it all but there’s just so much, and you feel some of it crawl down your legs to drip silently onto the floor. 

By the time he’s finished he’s venting heavily and hotly and you’re so wet you wonder if he collected anything at all.

He puts the cube on his desk, between a neat stack of reports and a small monitor in standby mode. It’s one third full and smeared on one side.

"Don't leave," you say in a panicked rush. You feel horribly empty without him inside you and pressed up against you, and the next part of the fantasy is for him to sit back in his chair and tease you by asking if you’re feeling thirsty, but right now you just want him to be himself and to not feel disgusted or ashamed with you and you don’t want him to leave you, you could not bear it if he left you. Pathetic. 

Before you can say another word in apology or explanation, he's turned you around and is hugging you hard and kissing any part of you he can reach. It's like you've said all of this out loud to him, and he’s scared that he’s not going to do enough to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about.

"I will never leave you," he promises you, as he sits you carefully on the edge of his desk.

You close your eyes and lean your forehead against his chest plate.

"For the rest of this existence and all the ones that come after it, I will be by your side."

You wrap your arms around him as far as they'll go. Your bodies are different but your codes are the same, and they can be read and re-written in near effortless partnership.

He strokes your back and murmurs words of affection in your ear. He is warm and comforting, and you know that he'll stay like this with you for as long as you want to.

Everything feels perfect. 

After what could have been two or twenty minutes, you shift in place. You’re still sitting on his desk with your head resting on his chest, but the incessant movement of his fingers massaging you are now making you feel more than just comfort. They are warm and skilled, and now that you’re relaxed and reassured you start to think about what else they could be doing to you. If he felt like massaging your legs you wouldn’t mind. And if he used those fingers to stroke your inner thighs you wouldn’t say no. And if they slipped inside you, one warm digit at a time and curled and stroked and twisted, you would only encourage him.

You sit up straight and lock eyes with him. He tilts his head in polite questioning at what you would like to do next, and you slowly spread your legs open. He glances down and then back up, his eyes darkening to a rich metallic blue. He then watches you put your hand on top of the nearest stack of datapads. 

"That's my important work," he tells you in a mildly serious tone, unsure if you want to re-start the fantasy or not.

You push the stack to the edge of the desk. And when it’s wobbling precariously and in imminent danger of collapsing, you lift your hand up until you only have a fingertip holding the stack in place. 

"How important?" you ask him, in a tone that tells him you want to continue with this so long as he does.

He holds you around the waist and leans forward and kisses you.

You push the datapads off the desk. They crash and clatter noisily to the floor, but neither of you pay attention.

What could be three or thirty minutes later, you break the kiss and lean to the side to look down at the fallen datapads.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him pleasantly.  
OP  
He glances down at the mess of datapads and then looks back at you. He pushes your skirt up, and wraps his hands around your legs just above your knees. 

"I don't think you're sorry at all,” he says with a faint smile that’s as dark as you were hoping it would be. 

He spreads your legs apart as far as they’ll comfortably go.

“I think you're lying to me," he says. 

You put your hands on his chest and stroke it with idle movements. "What are you going to do about it?"

His smile decays further, and he sinks to his knees and puts his face in between your legs and Licks you.

You inhale sharply and grab onto his head. His tongue is long and flat with tiny ridges and patterns that provide the perfect amount of friction on your skin. His licks turn into laps, and you close your eyes at the intensity of it. He’s drinking from you like a dying man being offered water, and the way he’s curling his tongue into you is making you breathe harder and faster and wishing he would both slow down and speed up.

And then you open your eyes. You want to try something. You look down at him and see him looking back up at you, and you know he understands that you want him to watch you while you do this.

You slide your hand along the desk, searching for it by feel. A clattering sound tells you that another datapad has tipped over the edge to join the one you intentionally pushed over, and a louder thump tells you that a heavy piece of communications equipment has followed it. Your fingers find it, and you wrap them around its edges. 

And slowly, without breaking eye contact with him, you hold the energon cube out in front of you and raise it to your mouth. The part your hand is holding is warm, and the corner rim that presses down onto your lip is cool.

His eyes flare brightly. This was never suggested by you and is new, and selfish, and as you part your lips and take your first slow sip from the cube he makes a long muffled sound at what he's seeing.

You take your time and swallow slowly. 

This is not out of concern that what you're drinking will harm you because you already know that it won’t, and it’s not out of distaste because you’ve already tasted him and like it. This is out of desire. A desire to make the evening last as long as possible and to see the reaction on his face as you make it clear that you want to savour him in his entirety. 

You lick your lips and then lick the rim of the cube and he jerks hard at that. His tongue pushes in deeper and you make a noise and buck forward into him. He holds you in place and looks up at you and uses his mouth on you in ways you’ve only ever fantasised about. 

You groan and drink from the cube again, but you’re rocking in place and are sloppy in your movements. A thin line of fluid doesn’t make it past your lips, and crawls slowly down your chin.

With the same hand that’s holding the cube, you put a finger on your chin and wipe the fluid up it. And without stopping, without looking away from him, you run your sticky finger over your bottom lip and suck your finger into your mouth.

He makes a long lewd noise inside you, and laps at you wetly with a mouth that’s stretched wide open. 

He’s drinking you quickly now, quickly and desperately and with no sense of restraint and his tongue, his mouth, his teeth, slide hot and slick all over you and inside you and you’re almost there. You can’t hold out much longer with what he’s doing to you and you’re going to finish sooner than you thought, so you tip the energon cube up and pour him down your throat and grip him and come hard with your mouth full.

You swallow and gasp, and feel the cube fall from your boneless hand and land heavily on the desk.

You look down at him, breathing heavily, and hold onto him with both hands. He looks up at you and kisses you. He kisses your inner thighs and strokes your legs with his fingertips, slow and soft and loving, until your heart rate has stabilized and you’ve recovered enough to remember your own name.

He stands up and kisses you on the lips. You kiss him back, and it’s a long deep kiss with your hands on each side of his face and his fingers tangled in your hair.

You finally break it and come out panting. You don’t think you’ll ever recover your breath again. The air he’s venting is hotter and heavier.

“You, ah,” he starts but then stops as he gives in to the code deep desire to kiss you again, “Finished quickly. The glass I mean. But also…”

You kiss him and stroke the back of his head. “Maybe it could be filled up again.”

“The glass? Or...you?”

“Why not both.”

He adjusts his angle and you adjust yours, and you feel his dick push into you at the same time his tongue slides into your mouth. You hold onto him as he lowers you onto your back, and you hear a pile of equipment thump onto the floor as your vision starts to blur again.


	6. Electromagnetic Interference BONUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don’t know you’re being filmed, but you are.
> 
> Your human friend is secretly recording you, and the three cybertronians that are watching with them like it as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a quick and dirty thing I was inspired to write after thinking about the previous chapter far too much. The POV switches from the reader to their friend and back again, who is a human and likes what they see a LOT.

You don’t know you’re being filmed, but you are. 

A microscopic droid camera stuck to the wall is coated in reflective paint and distilled lead carbonate. It’s invisible and impervious to electromagnetic signals designed to soundproof and blind a room. An outlier communications expert can only do so much when up against a paranoid security expert.

You don’t know you’re being watched, but you are.

In a dark room lit only by the glow of the large monitor in front of them, a human and several bots are watching you. And they like what they’re seeing.

You’re bent over his desk and spread wide open for him. He’s bracing his weight on one outstretched arm, while his other hand wraps around your thigh and hip. The feel of his grip tells you how much he wants to protect and reassure you. He’s got you, and he’s only ever going to do what you want. But this grip is also for him. He needs metal to skin contact to be sure that he’s not in a fever dream, and that you’re actually here and want him like this.

Another inch of his warm dick slides into you. 

His fingers press into your soft body so hard that you know they’re leaving marks. It doesn’t hurt. In your mind’s eye you see your skin around his fingertips turning white from the pressure he’s inflicting. Later on dark bruises will form, and they’ll be exact replicas of where his fingers are now. Maybe you should get them tattooed before they fade.

You moan loudly.

++++++++++++++++++++

“She looks like she’s making sounds that are going to wake up the entire ship,” one watching bot says. His eyes are glued to the silent screen.

“Only if he starts doing her properly,” your human companion says.

The bot flicks a brief glance at the only other human on board the ship.

Your colleague from Earth is watching you with their arms folded across their chest and a knowing smile upon their face. “And for that to happen, he’s got to get inside her first.”

“He’s almost all the way in,” the same bot says in a concerned tone. “You can only see a bit...left…”

“How big is he?” the human asks, unconcerned about this bot’s embarrassment for looking so closely at what’s going on. And in. 

A mechanical thrumming sound of curiosity, discomfort, guilt and suppressed excitement comes from all of the bots in the room and mingles in the air.

“We don’t...exactly have those measurements on file…” 

“Why don’t you go in there and ask him,” the room’s medic says.

Before your human friend can respond, the answer is given to them.

On the screen, they watch Hubcap slowly withdraw from you. He takes his time. 

A murmur of surprise and appreciation fills the room.

“Damn,” the medic says. “That’s a lot.”

They watch him hold onto you tighter as he slowly pushes most of his dick back into you. He really takes his time doing this.

“And she’s taking it,” your friend says with approval. “Good girl.”

Everyone watches silently.

“I wish I could hear what she’s saying,” your friend says, adjusting their position on the seat they’re sitting on. There’s lots of subtle movements and adjustments going on from everyone in the room. “Look at the way her mouth’s moving.”

“We, uh, shouldn’t be watching this at all,” the concerned bot says. “So it’s good we’re not listening in as well.”

No-one speaks up in agreement. 

Your friend leans forward towards the monitor. Their eyes are alight with the reflected glow of the screen and a darker light they’re producing from within themselves. “He’s still not in all the way yet. I bet that’s what she’s saying. No, that’s what she’s asking for. That’s what she’s begging for - she's pleading with him to fill her up and fuck her properly.”

A couple of bots look at the human. It’s clear they weren’t expecting them to be enjoying this so openly. Or to be so vocal in what they’d like to see happening. They shouldn’t be expressing themselves like this. And the bots themselves shouldn’t be glad they’re hearing it. None of what’s happening in this room should be happening. It’s forbidden and wrong. They feel guilty and disgusted with themselves for watching and not leaving. But the thrill of witnessing something you should never be allowed to see is too addictive to break free from.

Your friend licks their lips. “Look - she’s turned her head over her shoulder and is saying something to him. Want to take bets on what it is?”

“We don’t have to bet,” a voice says from a dark corner of the room. “...I can turn the audio on.”

Everyone mutters and murmurs at that revelation. And the emotion underlying it isn’t disapproval; it’s  
uncomfortable impatience. 

“Disgraceful,” your friend says in mocking accusation. “All this time you’ve been holding out on us when we could have been listening in? For shame Red Alert, for shame.”

Without moving from the shadows, Red Alert turns the audio on.

And everyone freezes.

++++++++++++++++++++

The sounds you’re making with him are obscene. Metal slides against slick skin and it sounds wet. It sounds explicit. It sounds like something that shouldn’t be happening but is.

“Please,” you rasp. “Please more. I...I know you have more.”

He vents hot and hard behind you. “I...are you sure? I don’t want to...this is a lot. And- and-” all he can  
manage now are strained mechanical grinding sounds.

You clench your fingers into fists as he withdraws from you. “Please,” you whine. “I can take it. I need this. I need you. Please. Please, just- please.”

++++++++++++++++++++

“Come on Hubcap,” your friend says in admonishment, as they soak up the sights and sounds of you living out your dream. “She’s begging for your dick. Man up and give it to her."

“He’s, uh, holding her tightly,” the concerned bot says. “He might be giving her bruises.”

Your friend shrugs. “She knew what she was getting into when she begged a cybertronian to fuck her. She's loving this."

"He doesn't want to hurt her," the medic says. His plating is bleeding heat. "That's why he's holding back."

Your friend gives him a condescending look. "She knows her limits better than he does."

The medic thinks about this. And dips his head in acknowledgement of the truth of it.

Everyone's attention is magnetized to the screen.

++++++++++++++++++++

"Hold on."

No one knows if you or he said that. 

He presses into you further. And further. And keeps going until his body is flush against yours. Your mouth is open and you’re panting. He’s in deep. You’ve never been filled like this before and it’s almost overwhelming. His fingers dig deeper into your skin as he fights to steady himself. None of it hurts. All of it feels right. 

“I’m…” he begins. His vocaliser stutters and cuts out and reboots. “...are you...OK?” His voice is thick with  
static.

“Yeah,” you slur. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m...all in.”

A string of saliva is crawling out of your open mouth. “Please. Please fuck me.”

And he does.

+++++++++++++++++++

The temperature in the viewing room continues to climb steadily. The acute embarrassment everyone would normally feel at venting so much is gone. Everyone’s doing it.

Your friend slips their jacket off and pulls their sweater over their head. 

Several bots look over at them. Their gazes linger. The human locks eyes with one of the bots. The bot tilts his head in question. And gets a sly smile in return. 

The human looks back at the screen. “That’s better. She’s going to feel so much better now.”

++++++++++++++++++++

A wall of sound is building up between the two of you. And when it breaks it’s going to deafen. 

“Can you- I mean if you- I mean…” Hubcap stutters. He’s channeling additional power and diverting other streams of energy in order to maintain a pace and angle that’s turning you boneless. 

“Just- tell me,” you manage to say. “Please. Anything. I’ll do anything for you. I want you to feel as good as you’re making me feel.”

He pauses for a long time. He’s debating the permissibility of asking you for anything when you’re  
already giving him more than he ever imagined possible. But he will never deny you anything you ask of him. 

So he tells you.

And you groan long and low.

You raise your hips up. The bare skin of your backside touches his glass window plates. They’re hot and smooth. You press up into them. And stay there. It doesn’t involve much effort to keep yourself raised like this. He hooks his fingers around your thigh to help support you. And he continues to fuck you slowly. Your sweat slicked skin rubs against his shatter proof glass with little friction. The sounds his overworked machinery makes can just about be heard over your laboured breathing. You’re close. You’ve already come twice since you were put in this position, and it won't be long before you do so again. It helps that he’s rubbing slow circles into your clit as he fucks you. It helps that more of your skin is now in contact with his frame. It helps that he’s comfortable enough to tell you what he wants and that he’s enjoying it.

He’s really enjoying it.

“...I’m, ah,” he finally stutters. “Going to… I can’t… I can’t...”

“Please,” you whisper, your cheek now lying flush against the desk. “Let go. Please. I- I want this so much.”

His engine roars. His fingers tighten even harder around you. He keeps his slow and steady pace but there’s a palpable tension in his frame, and you know he can’t last much longer. He presses his body into you harder, and you begin a moan that won’t end until he’s finished.

A punch of heat hits you and he holds you in a death grip and screams and pours himself into you.

It takes a long time for him to finish.

You had no idea there would be so much. You briefly wonder if it’s safe for your body to take so much of his fluid, but it dies almost as soon as it's formed. You don’t care. This is the best you’ve ever felt in your entire  
life. You want all of him. You want all of him forever.

++++++++++++++++++++

Your secret watchers didn’t know there would be so much either.

The medic lets out a low whistle. “I need to update my records.”

“I hope he doesn’t make the cleaning crew deal with that,” the concerned bot says.

Your human friend shakes their head. “She’ll deal with it. As soon as she gets her sight back, she’ll be down on her hands and knees lapping it up.”

All of the bots turn their heads slowly to look at them. 

One of them shakes their head. “Why do you…”

The human clenches a fist and rests their chin on it. They smile knowingly. “She hasn’t had a good fucking her entire life. She’s going to make the most of this. She won’t want it to end. She’s also going to have a guilty conscience about being responsible for a mess and is going to clean it up. And since she’s got a gutter for a mind, she’s going to scoop it up with her finger. He’ll like the sight of that. But that won’t be enough, so then she’s going to use two fingers. He’ll like that even more. And then she’ll be confident enough to dip her head and lap it up directly. He’ll blow a piston at that. She’ll raise her hips up, he’ll grab onto them, and he’ll fuck her while her tongue gets to work on the floor.”

Additional cooling fans click on.

The silence in the room is hot and heavy. 

++++++++++++++++++++

The human looks up. All of the bots are milling around and fidgeting. They look hopeful. They look frustrated. They look hungry and eager to follow orders that will please. 

The human’s knowing smile deepens. “You’re recording this, aren’t you Red?”

“...yes.”

“Good. We can watch what happens later. If I’m proven wrong, I’ll make it up to all of you. And if I’m proven right, you’ll all make it up to me.” 

The human spins their chair around so the screen is at their back. “But right now I’m missing it. So you’re all going to make that up to me now.”

The bots are told where to stand and kneel and sit. They’re told what to do with their hands and mouths and frames. They obey enthusiastically.

It’s a very long time until the recording is watched.

And when it is, your friend is happy to be proven right.

++++++++++++++++++++


End file.
